


The Hand

by patternmaster



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 18:42:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13886853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patternmaster/pseuds/patternmaster
Summary: A young Michael Burnham fights for the resistance in the mirror universe until she's captured by Emperor Philippa Georgiou.





	The Hand

**Author's Note:**

> This is a working title. It may change. We'll see. Also sorry for the typos, I just got tired of editing it. Also be forewarned -- this story will turn explicit at some point and it will get fairly dark, possibly N/C, but not for awhile I think. This also really is just a prologue. The actual story is set years after the following takes place. And finally, I am not a Trekkie, so I don't know any Star Trek terms or science-type things at all. So that will not play a major part descriptively in my story. I just love the chemistry b/w Michael and Philippa across universes.

“Kneel,” the captain ordered. 

He shoved Michael down to her knees before she even had a chance to comply.  He did not need to use much force.  She was near collapsing from exhaustion anyway.

The emperor sat before her, dressed in full gold and black regalia. Guards flanked her sides and lined the aisle.  Huge crowds were packed inside the throne room.  It was the first time Michael had ever been to the palace.  She had always imagined coming here with her family as liberators.  But now she was alone -- a prisoner captured by the emperor’s forces.

“What is this?” the emperor asked, waving a hand at her dismissively.  Michael knew she was a low priority, especially on a day like this.  The emperor was more interested in celebrating victory than dealing with the spoils of war.

The captain cleared his throat. 

“A terran rescued from Vulcan kidnappers.”

Michael looked up at the man, her eyes flashing hatred.

“They weren’t kidnappers.   They were family.”

Her words were met with a swift backhand to the face.  Michael nearly tumbled back from the force of it.  But she clenched her teeth, refusing to show how much it hurt.

The emperor eyed her with as much interest as one would give a gnat, then turned again to the captain.

“So why have you brought her here?  Send her home.”

“She says her family was killed by Klingons.”

Michael did not want to get hit again but she suddenly felt herself speaking.

“No. My family was killed by you,” she said, looking directly at the emperor.  “And your lackeys.”

What happened next was pure chaos.  Michael heard the metal drag of a sword being unsheathed.  She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing her life was over.  But instead of a cold blade to her neck, she heard the clatter of metal.  She inched her eyes open and saw the broken blade of a sword on the ground before her.  She looked up to see the captain clutching what was left of his sword in his hand, his eyes wide with shock.

The emperor fidgeted with a small circular device between her fingers.

“We are many things,” she said.  “But we are not child killers.”

She paused, her mouth twisting into a cold smile.

“At least not of _terran_ children,” she clarified. Quiet laughter filled the room.

“How old are you, girl?” the emperor asked

Michael was 14, but she was not going to tell the emperor that.  She knew she looked much younger than her years.  Her growth had been stunted by years of malnutrition and illness.  At 14 she was technically still a child, but barely.  Her youthful face and short stature had just saved her life.  She wasn’t going to jeopardize that.

“Twelve,” Michael stated matter-of factly.

The emperor glared at her.  “I see your Vulcan kidnappers did not teach you much.  They’re usually quite skilled at deception masquerading as truth.”

The insult stung more than the emperor could have known. 

The emperor turned to the captain.  “While this has been mildly intriguing, you’ve yet to explain to me why you brought her here.  Take her to an orphanage.  Send her back to her home planet.  I don’t care, just get her out of my sight.  This is a day to celebrate the defeat of the rebel traitors. _Not_ to play babysitter.”

The crowd erupted in cheers at her words, holding up glasses of champagne.  The emperor smiled at their chants of, “Victory!”  Michael cringed. 

“Emperor!” the captain shouted to be heard over the crowd.  The emperor ignored him, relishing in the celebration.  But finally, she held up her hand.  The crowd instantly fell silent.

The emperor turned to the captain, her expression marked with annoyance.

 “My patience is growing thin, Captain Lorca.”

The captain bowed briefly.  “Apologies, Emperor, but this could not wait.  This”—he said pointing to Michael – “is the adopted daughter of Sarek the Wise.”

Gasps filled the room.  Every head turned toward Michael.  For the first time, the emperor looked at her with interest.  She stood from her throne, walked down the steps and began circling her like a bird to its prey.

“Sarek _the Wise_ ,” the emperor said, her tone laced with disgust.  “I know only Sarek the Coward.  Sarek the Enemy of the Empire.”

Michael wanted to speak up, to come to Sarek’s defense.  But she knew such a reaction would escalate the situation to no purposeful end.  So, she clenched her teeth in silence.

“How did you come into possession of Sarek’s daughter when Sarek himself is still a ghost in the wind?”

The captain looked contrite for a moment, then squared his shoulders.  

“We tracked what’s left of the rebels to a camp on Adarak Prime.  They must have been alerted to our approach because as we arrived several convoys fled the planet.  We destroyed most of the ships and took several hostages but Sarek somehow managed to escape.”

Michael listened to his retelling of events.  There was so much he had wrong, so many missing pieces.

Suddenly, the emperor was in front of her, clutching her chin in a painful grip.

“Your father,” the emperor said.  “Where is he?”

Michael stared at the woman defiantly. 

“There are ways I can make you talk,” the emperor said.  “I may not be willing to kill a terran child, but I will do what I must to extract the information I need. The war is over.  Your side has lost.  This moment can either mark the end of your suffering or the beginning.”

Michael could feel her eyes tearing up from the pain of the emperor’s iron grip on her chin. She fought hard to blink the tears back – unsuccessfully.  The emperor, still clutching her chin, used a thumb to wipe away one of the fallen tears.  Michael was embarrassed more than anything.  She did not want to appear weak.

The emperor asked, “Have you ever experienced pain so extreme, you long for death?  That will be your immediate future if you do not tell me what I wish to know.”

Michael wasn’t afraid.  She believed in her father’s cause, even if it was long dead.

“I can’t help you,” Michael said, her voice tight with pain.

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“ _Can’t_ ,” Michael said.  “But even if I could, I wouldn’t.”

The emperor released her chin. Michael felt instant relief.  She wanted to soothe the ache by rubbing it but thought better of any sudden movements.

“We’ll see,” the emperor said.   She turned to the captain.  “Put her in an agonizer booth for three hours.  Let’s see how faithful to her father she remains after that.”

\----------------

Three hours later, Michael was in terrible pain -- pain that really did make her long for death. But when questioned again, she was as silent as ever.  Twelve hours later, she could hardly speak, hardly think; she could only feel – every nerve in her body felt like it had been seared with a burning hot iron rod.  Three days later, Michael was barely conscious.  She felt someone dragging her to the throne room.  She was aware of the emperor standing before her and speaking. But she could not comprehend anything beyond her own pain.  Then, everything went dark.

\----------------

When Michael awoke again, she was not in an agonizer booth.  She was in a bed.  A hard, uncomfortable bed, but a bed nonetheless.  The room she was in was small --  big enough for the bed and a sink but nothing else.  She tried to sit up but sharp pain shot through her limbs, forcing her back down.  Might as well rest, she thought.  This would only be a short reprieve before she was thrown back into that torture chamber.  She wondered if anyone had ever died in the agonizer booth.  If they hadn’t, she was sure she would be the first.  She didn’t know how much more she could take.

Michael lie resting for what felt like hours, drifting in and out of sleep, before she heard the door swing open.  Michael opened her eyes and saw one of the guards.  He entered the room, lifted her from the bed like a child and carried her away.  Michael didn’t resist.  She didn’t have the strength to.  What did it matter anyway?  Regardless of any fight she put up, she would be dumped into the agonizer booth for another round of torture.  Might as well conserve her strength.

Michael had just drifted off to sleep again when she felt herself being set down.  She he opened her eyes.  But instead of row after row of agonizer booths, she saw a table – piled high with food.  There was fruit – actual fruit--, pastries, and fish. And there were some other foods she did not particularly care for, including Kelpien soup with a side of ganglia. 

Michael was so absorbed in the food, she at first didn’t notice the person sitting at the other end of the table.  Emperor Georgiou. 

Michael gasped when she saw her. 

“I see you’re a alive, though still unwilling to talk I assume.” Georgiou said with a hollow smile. 

Michael glared at her.  Torture did not work, so Georgiou must be trying a new tactic.  Bribing her with food likely would have succeeded too if Michael had not been so accustomed to starving when she was younger.

“No matter,” Emperor Georgiou said with an exaggerated wave of her hand. She took a spoonful of Kelpien soup and scooped it into her bowl.   

“Although…” Georgiou said, allowing a long pause before she continued.  “It would be interesting to hear how a 14-year-old came to be the leader of the resistance.”

Michael froze.  She steeled her face so as not to give anything away.  Was this a test?  Was the emperor fishing for information?  Hoping to confirm a bluff?

“You’re not eating,” Georgiou said, taking a bite of ganglia.  Michael held back a disgusted groan.  The Kelpiens had long ago joined the resistance.  Michael thought of them more as friend than food, but she knew most terrans would rather see Kelpiens on their dinner plate.

 “You’re hesitant to trust me, “ Georgiou continued.  “That’s smart.  You don’t know if I’m bluffing.”

Georgiou put down her fork and stared directly into Michael’s eyes.

“I’m not,” she said.  “The agonizer booth was not intended for children.  But you held out much longer than I anticipated.  So long, in fact, it was only a matter of time before it resulted in your death. I decided to use another tactic.”

Georgiou smiled devilishly, reveling in the information she was about to reveal.

“I put the other hostages we collected from your convoy in their own agonizer booths. They, like you, opted for stoic silence,” Emperor Georgiou said with feigned annoyance.  “Until, I gave them a front row seat to your torture.  You were holding on to the last wisps of life by then.  I promised to spare you in exchange for information.”

Georgiou stared at her, waiting for her to speak. For the first time, Michael’s cool, detached façade broke.  She had been so caught up in her own pain, she’d forgotten about the other hostages.  Forgotten they could also be tortured.  Her chest tightened at the thought of them suffering as she had.  It wasn’t their fault they were in this predicament, it was hers.  

“What was it they told me…” Georgiou paused, making a dramatic show of pretending to forget.  “Ah, that’s right. The great Sarek the Wise,” she said the title mockingly, ”has been dead for two years, killed in our attack on Mazar.  And in his stead, his adopted daughter has taken the reins of the resistance, waging war against her own kind.”

Georgiou grinned at her.  It was a look of pure, calculating evil.  The look of someone who had not merely won but had crushed their opponent in the process. 

Michael lowered her eyes, staring at the edge of the table.  The ruse she had kept going for two years was over.  She had kept her father’s death a secret because she knew it would be a heavy blow to the resistance.  Only a small group of Vulcans had known of his death.  They agreed the most logical course would be to keep the secret lest the resistance lose hope. 

Michael, as the heir apparent to her father’s movement, had asserted her leadership despite opposition from Vulcans who thought she was too young and too human.  Now, she thought maybe they were right.  She had not just lost the war.  News of Sarek’s death would extinguish hope even among the small pockets of resistance scattered about the galaxy.  

“It is a rather poetic tale,” Georgiou said.  “Or, it would have been had you won.  Instead, your leadership precipitated the downfall of the rebellion. Really, I should thank you.“

Michaels jaw tightened but she didn’t say a word. Georgiou continued to enjoy her ganglia, grinning as she chewed.

“Adults allowing a child to lead them to their deaths.  It would be rather amusing if it wasn’t so tragic.”

Georgiou used her chopsticks to pick up the last piece of ganglia on her plate.  She held it out to Michael, encouraging her to eat it.  Michael flinched away. 

Georgiou chuckled at her reaction.  “We’ll have to work on expanding your palate. These—” she held up the ganglia –” are a delicacy.” 

Georgiou dropped the slimy, flesh-colored “delicacy” into her mouth. She closed her eyes as she chewed as if savoring every bite.

Michael stared at her, partly in disgust, partly in confusion. questioningly.  “Expand her palate?”  What did she mean by that?  Georgiou may have been reluctant to kill terran children, but she was no mere terran child.  She was the de facto leader of the resistance.  Death was surely in her future.  Or, at the very least, a lifetime in prison.  Michael would hardly be expanding her palate there.  Georgiou barely feed her prisoners, preferring them to waste away into a slow death.

Georgiou must have noticed the question in her eyes because she said, “You may have failed as a rebel leader, but I have another role I believe you will excel in. Would you like to hear it?”

Michael saw the calculating gleam in her eyes.  She did not want to hear it.

Georgiou allowed the question to hang in the air for a moment.

 “Well, since you’re obviously so eager to know…,” the emperor said mockingly. “My forces may have wiped out the resistance leadership and strongholds, but there still remains pockets of rebellion loyal to Sarek the Coward.  You’re going to help me kill them.”

The idea that she would help the emperor kill anyone was so ridiculous Michael nearly laughed. 

“You should put me back in the agonizer booth,” Michael said, breaking her silence.  Her voice was shaky and hoarse from disuse. “Because I would die before I help you.”

Georgiou waved off her response.  “Calm down.  I don’t plan to kill them physically.  Your kind are like cockroaches: excellent at hiding and difficult to root out.  It would be impossible for me to track down every one of you and kill you.  But I can kill your spirit.”

“That will never happen,” Michael said, louder than she intended. “If there is even one voice of resistance out there, it is only a matter a time before that voice multiplies.  You may have weakened us but you’ll never win this war.”

“You’re bold,” Georgiou replied.  “I like that.  Regrettably, I’ll have to break you of that boldness.  But don’t worry.   Whatever I take from you, I will rebuild -- but channeled to my needs.”

Michael scoffed at her assertion.  “I won’t help you.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

Georgiou stood and walked towards a door.  Michael’s eyes followed her as she opened it.

“Bring her,” Georgiou shouted. 

A long moment passed before Michael heard heavy footsteps at the door.  Two guards walked into the room shoving a hooded figure before them.  Georgiou reached for the hood and pulled it back.

Michael jumped up from her chair, off balance from the sudden movement in her weakened state.

“No!,” she shouted.  It was her mother.  Amanda.  Badly beaten. Unable to stand.  Unable to even look up at her.

Georgiou smiled.  “Thank you for confirming what I suspected. “ 

She turned to the guards.  “Take her away.”

“Please!” Michael shouted.  But the guards ignored her and dragged Amanda from the room.  Michael stared at the door as it closed.  How had they captured Amanda?  No one knew she was Sarek’s wife or had any part in the rebellion except the small group of Vulcans who had helped her keep Sarek’s death a secret.  Michael had sent Amanda back to Earth after Sarek’s death.  She had not gone willingly but she was not so reckless as to give herself away.

“it’s your choice, Michael.” The emperor said, interrupting her thoughts. It was the first time the tyrant had spoken her name.  Michael didn’t like the sound of it.

“I don’t understand,” Michael said.  “what do you want from me?”

Georgiou’s eyes lit up and her lips curved in pleasure. She looked as if she had been waiting her whole life for this moment.

“I want to turn the young leader of the resistance --  the daughter of Sarek the _Wise_ , founder of the rebellion -- into my loyal right hand.”

 

 

 


End file.
